Yippie-kay-yay, Mother Crustacean

It all started one fateful day when I was searching the Great Coral for interesting trinkets to show my mother and father. I happened across something so intriguing that I had to fight a literal frogfish. You don't know what a frogfish looks like? Well, brother, you're in for a shock. They don't actually look like frogs at all—and they're nasty omnivores.

Gee whizz. Pick a lane.

Anyway, I came across what looked like a shiny pearl, but it was concave-like and in a glorious pink hue. It had been scattered onto the Reef by a human, it seemed. There was other debris there that confirmed this, like those plastic traps humans use to carry their precious liquid containers. I got stuck in one of those and was trying to reach the shiny, when a Painted Frogfish who introduced himself as “Your Worst Nightmare”—meaning me, not you, dear reader.

He told me he would spare my life if I gave him the shiny, which, it turns out, was a fake fingernail. Humans are weird. They fake everything these days - orgasms, literary works, and fingernails. That may not sound like everything, but it's a start.

Anyway, I declined his generous offer, and as he was about to lunge at me, I grabbed the shiny object and held it up like a shield. Not that I, of course, knew what a shield was. But I felt pretty badass at that moment. He regrouped, though among some Grouper fish, and was about to lunge at me again, when I asked him to think for a moment about the declining standards of cleanliness around the Coral Reef and how my dead, garrotted body was hardly going to keep things clean, or something.

Don’t start looking at me funny—I was thinking on my feet. Well, metaphorically. I don’t actually have feet. That’s a human privilege. Did not expect to face a Painted Frogfish with a nasty chip on his shoulder. You should always expect the Spanish Inquisition, but never a Frogfish looking to cut you down in your prime for a Barbie Pink (Mattel, I namechecked you, so please give me free stuff) acrylic fake fingernail.

Something inside of me rose from the pit of my stomach, which sounds unrealistic from a crustacean biological point of view. And I was holding the fake fingernail shield like the campest, sparkliest weapon this side of Atlantis. I could see him stalking the water in front of me, trying to fake out where he might lunge at me from next. But, I was on to him.

Suddenly imbued with the power of Great Neptune himself, or Poseidon, or Aquaman, I decided to take the fight to him.

Bad move. I lunged my shield at him and missed. He then knocked me back into the Reef. I felt a sharp pain in my back and noticed the water turning a slightly reddish hue.

Dammit.

I was done for. Or was I?

As we're only halfway through the story, you should know by now I’m not done. I’m a crab with a fake fingernail and a grudge. That's storytelling fuel.

I noticed a turtle swimming by and grabbed its shell, without giving it too much thought.

"Yippie-kay-yay," I shouted. Not that the turtle cared. But someone had to honour Bruce. Motherfucker.

With the lack of planning in my plan entirely laid bare, I found myself clinging for dear life to the scuzziest, sweatiest turtle in the ocean. He was not a safe swimmer at all. Although I thought I was in the clear, for sure.

I thought, "I'll just casually look behind me and rest easy knowing there was not an angry Painted Frogfish riding the turtle's slipstream baying for my blood."

The "phew, that's a relief" was short-lived, as there he was—Hellbent as ever.

Dammit.

I had to think fast because soon I would be close to my part of the Reef and would have to eject myself from my Turtle Taxi. The Frogfish was sure to want me for his dinner.

Would I make it on time?

Would I survive?

Who the fuck knows?

…

Wait. I do.

-

On the horizon, I saw my little bit of heaven - or the shabby chic Reef cottage my parents and I called home. Well, I say that, but they have a sign on our door that says "Ribbed for Her Pleasure."

No one seems to know what that means.

I threw caution to the wind, if caution was of course me, and the wind was the ocean water surrounding everything I've ever known and tried to swim as fast as I could, sideways like a freak, towards my home.

I could hear the bubbling brogue of the Painted Frogfish not far behind me.

It would be tight.

Something came over me again, and I decided against my best judgment to pump the brakes and face my predator.

"You are one ugly, ahhh." I had no time to finish my line, as a truly incredible fight of David Vs Goliath scale erupted. He with his vicious set of teeth, I with my pink and pretty fingernail shield.

The battle was gruelling. I had taken several hits in as many seconds, or parsecs. Then, fed up and frankly a bit hungry, I flipped the fingernail on its side and lunged it towards the Frogfish. Not being adept at melee combat, I was just aiming for... anywhere.

Acrylic and fish met in a collision of epic proportions. Wait, not epic, microscopic proportions. And while I did not "Finish him", as I sliced into his fleshy body, “Scheiße!” he wept, and swam off like a scorned ex.

-

I still have the fake fingernail. Dad mounted it above our door. Next to the sign about "ribbing". Some things, it seems, really do bring pleasure.

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: Well, the sharing embargo time is up, and now I can share with you my NYC Midnight Flash Fiction 2025 1st round entry. My group was 40 - Comedy, assigned location was A coral reef, and assigned item was Fake fingernail(s). The maximum word count was 1,000+ words. Enter the decorator crab and frogfish faceoff. The image was created for the Vocal piece, not for the original entry.

It did not progress, but was selected as an Honorable Mention. So better than the first time I entered an NYC Midnight competition, with When The Coldness Lifts, for the 250+ Microfiction Challenge towards the end of last year. I was pleased with the comments I received and found that a lot of them made sense. I was beyond delighted to even get an Honorable Mention because, unlike my last attempt at one of the site's competitions, I felt quietly confident submitting the story. Rather than doing editing, which I may do at a later date, this version is the same version the judges got.

Here is my last attempt at an NYC Midnight Competition.